This is coming to an end->
seized by turbulence; crash landing, losing momentum,
and coming to an end.
I am blazing through time->choosing what to forget->
Shuffling the moments, learning to breathe again.
Breaking glass with you
getting nowhere.
Flicking in between hallucinations->stars and fantasies-> that don't add up.
I put my internal bliss on repeat.

You made me smile but all the while
I fell too deep the slope was steep.
Just to be torn, I do now mourn
my vivid loss or tragic cost.

I remember you years ago, months ago, weeks, days ago.
Those days when I was weak and you'd be strong for me.
I remember how you sat near me. You'd be existent in my universe.
Voluntarily existent in my universe.
I loved how you were nothing that I was.
You were smart...
Everything you said stood tall... flowed smooth.
You preached in presidential speeches->giving yourself in an opaque fashion->still it was you. Revised, planned, rational, and practical.
It was you.
I promised myself I'd be good for you.
I'd try to be all you needed despite not being what you wanted.
And in some insane way this would all be worth while->
as if you'd write me a thank you letter when we parted and all my effort would be compensated.
I imagined it so clearly but you never did.
You stepped into my world of skewed vision, skewed ideas, skewed ambitions- a world of immature hope.
You were stable.
Your words were clouds for me to walk on.
You let me float.
The notion of soaring- you being my balance- dangled delicacies before me.
I dreamed of rest.

In your eyes were painted skies
but as it dies my poor soul cries.
And now I think through pen and ink
or what I pray that I could say.

I had no intentions of pushing you away.
I notice you today...unmoved by transition
Unmoved by my words...unmoved by my living and breathing.
And I resent your recovery.
I am bottled up inside kaleidoscope fragments..
Driven mad by this error.
Physically ill at how the past has passed.
Physically ill at the dawning of a new era.
Physically ill with the ordinary progression of seconds.
The contrast in our worlds is almost criminal.
I've misplaced my color within the pages of our story.
It's like trying to write a song without a melody.
Trying to breathe in a thick airless atmosphere->
I watch my raw, unchained feelings boomerang from your skin back into my heart.
They curdle and rot and spoil inside of me.
And I wish I could make something beautiful out of this situation!